3. Hyacinth
THREE
HYACINTH
I run my finger over my split lip. It’s barely a cut, but the pain makes my scalp tingle.
Not because it hurts, but because of how I’d gotten it.
I turn away from the mirror and strip the rest of my clothes off, dumping them on the floor of the hotel bathroom. My bare feet leave muddy footprints on the clean white tile.
If things had gone according to plan, I could have leisurely climbed out the window, put on my shoes, and slipped away without anyone noticing anything was amiss for at least another half hour. As it was, I’d had to grab the shoes I’d stashed in the bushes and dash barefoot to my escape route.
Not my finest hour. I’d lost one of my favorite knives in the process, too.
The hot water pelts my skin and washes off the grime.
I’ll have to do a cleanup of the hotel before the cleaning staff arrives tomorrow.
The hotel is nice enough that they clean without questioning…
but it also means it’s nice enough that the staff is more than willing to talk to law enforcement if anyone turns up asking questions.
I doubt Zane will get the police involved, though, even if he could find me.
Zane Vilani, leader of the New Valence branch of the Vilani family, had been a surprise. They’d entered New Valence barely twenty years ago, under Zane’s father. Now Zane is in charge, and he’s making a much larger splash on the city than anyone expected.
Casinos, strip clubs, money laundering.
I couldn’t get away from those even while living in Calamity City. The two cities cater to the exact same vices, only New Valence has significantly more water and humidity.
I really, really thought I was done with all of that. Living in the desert suits me a lot better than the swamp.
Zane hadn’t taken over yet when I’d left New Valence, so I only knew about him from my cousins’ complaining.
I can’t believe I failed.
I don’t fail.
Not since I was a teenager.
And to fail this contract? My cousin is going to be so pissed at me.
I should have done more research. But I’ve already wasted several weeks here, figuring out the best way to approach Zane.
He’d been discreet, but I’d noticed the way his eyes lingered on men sometimes.
He’d been so easy to goad, too.
Bat my eyes at him, let him think he can subdue me, and cater to his basest desires.
It should have been a quick, clean kill.
I should have been able to get the fuck out of this hellhole.
I reach up to touch the bruises he’d left on my throat. He isn’t the first man to have strangled me.
But he might be the most handsome. Tall, with honey brown eyes and dark hair. Luscious beard. Strong, muscular arms that wielded a whip so expertly, I almost considered postponing the job until I’d felt his lash.
Which would have been very, very stupid. I’m good at what I do, but even I can’t accurately stab a man if I’m high off endorphins and floating from the pain. I know he would have utterly destroyed my back and not bothered to stop when I asked.
That shouldn’t sound so appealing.
I reach down to grab my cock and give it a half-hearted stroke. Normally I would jerk off after a mission.
It’s not the same without the high of success. No, not even imagining Zane’s body boxing me in against the wall, his cock thrusting against my ass, is enough to draw interest.
…Maybe a little bit of interest.
Zane’s arm, slicing through the air as he whips a woman. The focused, intense arousal when the leather cuts her back. The way he’d kissed me, pure dominance concentrated on me and me alone.
I lean against the shower wall and huff as I fuck my hand.
‘Don’t look away from me,’ he’d demanded.
Look away from him? All I wanted to do was get on my knees and see what he could do to me.
Okay, and I wanted to kill him. Mutually exclusive desires, unfortunately.
‘I’m going to fuck you before I kill you.’
Or not so mutually exclusive. I groan, imagining him forcing me down and taking me. I stroke myself faster, racing toward that edge of pleasure.
I’ve never met anyone who didn’t cower and beg the moment I had them at knifepoint. I’ve killed so many different people, from sniveling underlings to large, muscled army dropouts, but none of them stared death in the eye so brazenly.
None of them wanted to fuck death.
I come with a soft sigh, spilling onto the shower wall. The water washes it away almost immediately.
Well.
That was a disappointing orgasm.
It would have been better if I’d done my job properly. Or if I’d let him have me the way he wanted to.
I’m in New Valence again. I could go find—
No. I’m not going that route. I’m never going back to him, and I won’t let somebody like Zane tie me down either.
Even if the fantasy is hot.
I shut the water off and wring out my hair, then step out to towel off. I don’t bother getting dressed, simply grabbing the hotel robe and putting it on.
My tablet is already on the large king-sized bed. I fully intend to watch a few vids before falling asleep, except the messenger system I use buzzes.
My sister is video calling.
I glance down at myself. I look presentable. The robe slipped open a bit, but it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. I accept the call.
“When are you coming back to Calamity?” she asks without preamble. Chrysanthemum is my twin sister. We aren’t identical twins, but we’re as close as you can get with one of us being male and the other female. She’s got the same silver eyes I do, the same pale skin, and the same slender face.
She did not, however, bleach her hair blond. Right now, it’s a bright blue, darker at the roots than at the bottom. Her hair is shorter, too, reaching only to her shoulders.
“Good evening, sister, how are you doing? I hope I’m not interrupting,” I tease.
She gives me a confused look. “Why would you be interrupting? I called you.”
“I was being sarcastic,” I point out. “And you were, actually, interrupting. I was about to head to bed.”
“Bed?” she repeats. “It’s only—” She pauses. “Oh. Right. You’re two hours ahead. Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “What are you up to? Anything entertaining?” After a small pause, she adds, “Have you seen the family yet?”
I consider how much I can tell her. “New Valence is New Valence. Hair perpetually damp. Water whenever you take a single breath. And… I saw Forest. He’s the same as usual. You know.”
“Smug as ever?” she asks.
“Extremely.” I twirl a damp lock of hair around my finger. “Thinks the entire world owes him. Until Dante glares at him, of course.”
Forest thinks he’s the top dog, but he’s still a sniveling little shit in the face of his older brother.
“Naturally. So you were heading to bed, huh? I didn’t interrupt you and someone else in the middle of something?”
“Just me and my hand,” I tell her, raising my hand up and wiggling my fingers.
“That lip of yours is all swollen,” she comments. “You trying to tell me you fell while masturbating or something? Not even a funny story to tell?”
I automatically reach up to touch my lip, then scowl. “That would have been funny, but no. Some closeted loser who couldn’t handle me, is all.”
What a lie.
He’d managed to escape three separate attacks that should have been deadly. The sheer dominant energy radiating off of him would have drawn me to him at a regular club, even without the contract on his life.
I wouldn’t have made it so easy for him if I hadn’t been trying to get him in a private room, though.
I don’t generally go for closet cases either. I’m done with closet cases. That did work in my favor for the assassination, though.
The failed assassination.
Ugh.
“I did have a shitty night though,” I say, batting my eyelashes at Chrys. “Maybe you should be the one telling a story. One with intrigue, and handsome ladies-or-gentlemen, and at least three kisses.”
“Well,” she says, shifting back in her chair, “I could tell you about the last handsome gent who kissed me in unmentionable places. At least three times.”
I smile as she goes on. This is why I do what I do. Chrys deserves to be able to smile and gossip like this.
Her story gets more and more improbable, with a drag queen, a drag king, and some minor pop celebrity all showing up to vie for her attention—and desperate for her to design their next outfits, of course.
Which reminds me that I’d lost the blouse she’d made for me during my escape. Shit.
“Hey, Chrys, remember the ruffle blouse you made? The one with all the secret straps?” I ask during a pause in the story.
“How could I forget? Trying to get the fabric to lay naturally with anything attached to the straps was hell,” she replies. “Don’t tell me you want another one like it.”
I give her a sheepish look. “I might need another one like it. I sort of misplaced it.” Before she can protest, I add, “But it worked really well! And I didn’t lose the leather pants, at least?”
The blouse had easily hidden the supplies I’d needed. A knife, rope to set up my escape route, and the keycard that would let me through the security gate. The leather pants had hidden the second knife.
Chrys scowls at me. “Don’t try to butter me up. I’m going to start charging you for your exclusive, fashionable yet functional wardrobe. I don’t work for free, you know.”
“But think of how much you’re helping the family!” I bat my eyelashes at her, although the effect is probably lessened without my usual mascara. “Everything for the family. You’re my heart, etc. etc.”
“You mean I’m your brain,” she retorts. “Because I swear you didn’t inherit a single brain cell.”
Given how badly I’d botched the job today, I almost agree with her.
“Mom clearly didn’t split the cells evenly in the womb,” I say. “I got all the beauty, strength, charisma, three-fourths of the brain…”
“And I got all the talent, you third rate hack,” she retorts with a smirk. “Don’t be jealous.”
She got all the talent for something, that’s true.
Mom never made Chrys train how to kill a man. After the third time Chrys had thrown up at the sight of a man’s internal organs, she’d given her up as a lost cause.
I became the sole focus of Mom’s training. Even our younger brother, six years younger, was spared.
It’s better this way. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in the mundane world, anyway.
I’m good at this.
I like doing it.
When I succeed, I mean. When I can watch the light fade from somebody’s eyes, and I can drink in their fear and agony.
“Don’t tell Mom,” I say. “About me losing the clothes.”
Chrys eyes me. “Is there something you need to tell me, Hyacinth?” she asks. “You didn’t get the job you wanted?”
“Job interviews are hell,” I say. I rub my lip again. “But I’m sure I’ll ace the next interview. Chrysanthemum.”
I say her full name to annoy her.
“Did I tell you I’m legally changing my name?” she asks. “To something simple. Like Christina. Or Ethel.”
We both know Mom would kill her if she tried.
I want to believe it would be figurative murder, but with Mom, who knows. Lois Cuore does not believe in joking about murder.
“You can’t be an Ethel. It doesn’t match with Hyacinth. At least change it to Rose. Lily. Pansy. Daisy. Forget-me-not.” I count off on my fingers. “No? I can keep going.”
“Pass,” Chrys says. “Ah, well. I hear the process is a pain in the ass anyway.” Her voice softens. “You’ll definitely get the next job. I’ll have a new blouse waiting for you. In hot pink this time, maybe.”
“No, pink doesn’t suit me. Black, please.” I sigh and lean back on the bed. “Okay, and now I’m exhausted, because I thought I could be on a flight home, but I’m going to have to prep for my next job interview.”
“Get some rest,” she replies. “Call me when you get the good news. We can celebrate when you get back. Have fun with your hand.” She hangs up.
I scowl at the screen, then glance at my hand.
It wasn’t very fun in the shower, and I doubt it’s going to be fun now.
What I actually want is to find somebody to fuck me into the mattress.
Or maybe I want to find somebody whose throat I can slit. Unfortunately, I can’t exactly leave a trail of bodies behind simply because I’m bored and unsatisfied.
If I were back in Calamity City and the vast expanse of desert, I would easily be able to grab some loser and make him disappear. New Valence has the swamps, but I’m not a boat person even when the water isn’t infested with alligators and full of mosquitos out to devour my blood.
Fuck this job.
Fuck my cousin, too, for insisting I do this.
You’re the best. The only one I can trust. All for the family, Hyacinth.
What’s Forest done for me lately?
Aside from giving me and my sister a luxury condo in downtown Calamity. That barely counts.
Aside from pulling me out of the worst situation of my life.
Forest threatened to tell everyone about that.
I couldn’t refuse.
I’m sick of this shitty, damp city already.
It has rained at least two of the weeks I’ve been here.
It didn’t even have the decency of being two straight weeks of rain and then normal weather, no.
It was drizzly some hours, rain the next, a few scattered hours of sun only to go back to being fucking miserable.
The desert knows how to do rain properly: basically never.
I never wanted to return to this place, where every familiar street has a chance to send me down the wrong memory lane.
At least the nightclubs are exactly as I remembered them, and the goth scene is welcoming. And, fine, New Valence does spicy food better than Calamity ever could.
I click over to my encrypted file about Zane Vilani.
His handsome, stern face stares back at me.
I don’t have the element of surprise anymore, but I can improvise.
No matter how good he looks—or how well he wields a whip—it won’t save him from me.
Maybe I’ll give him a kiss as I let him bleed out on these awful, wet streets.